Eyes
by Alabaster Plum
Summary: A short fic exploring Gendo's feelings for his son.


Eyes  
  
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Disclaimer. Shin Seiki Evangelion, the concept, the characters, and anything else affiliated with the series are legal property of GAINAX and the vexing mind of Anno Hideaki. Presumably, this is a fic about the difficult and vague relationship between Shinji and Gendo, which is by far one of the most personally interesting bonds to explore.Also, thank You to my Boyfriend who indirectly encouraged me to start writing again!  
  
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iI know, I know I've let you down. I've been a fool to myself, I thought that I could live for no one else../i  
  
There was always that awkward hesitation when his name was actually used — the combination of vowels and consanants so foreign on the intimidating tongue. His tall and gaunt frame so unfamiliar, his natural scent so disturbing as it mingled with the boy's own conflicting fragrance.  
  
"Being apart is natural for them."  
  
The woman had not understood, which was peculiar for such a rational and realistic character, an infamous doctor who conjugated emotion, thought, and human nature into mathematical terms.  
  
"And being together is unnatural?"  
  
But now, through all the hurt and pain, it's time for me to respect the ones you love mean more than anything.  
  
The question had been rhetorical, and went unnanswered — it was an idiotic question that could have easily been obviated with a moment's analysation of such a dedicated man. One who seemed to live solely for his work, to the exclusion of all else that others had cherished; one who placed the importance of his greatest dream, the manifestation of a god, over the life of his three-year-old son.  
  
The son had forgotten him, though, as children do anything despite the dearness of whatever thoughts would haunt the minds of those older. However, this serene emptiness had been ruptured with the scribbled, mangled package that had been delivered to the son, now thirteen, messy handwriting scrawling out ambiguously "COME NOW." It had been assumed that it was not the father's, for such a man would not take time out of his chronological routine to be bothered with such trivial matters.  
  
Yet, the handwriting was his.  
  
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iSo with sadness in my heart, I feel the best thing I could do, is end it all and leave forever./i  
  
Ironically, the memories of the father's brief and insensitive departure were awakened with the father's few kind words, the softening of his voice when he spoke his son's name, the professional praise cautiously administered to the young, uncertain boy in times of his greatest need. The application of such mute applause was like alcohol to a bleeding wound: intended to be beneficial, yet superficially only causing the reception of more pain.  
  
How could someone have understood how the two were so similar, when the two chose to ignore their most primal emotions toward each other? Both so uncertain and so unsure that such a wide and severe breach could be healed in the few months they spent together, the sparse words of approval perpendicular to the years of acute anguish one had imposed on another with his disappearance.  
  
iWhat's done is done, it feels so bad, what once was happy now is sad.. I'll never love again! My world is ending../i  
  
Could anyone have understood that untangible love the father held for the perpetually distant son? The infinite guilt the fragile man had endured after the loss of his beloved wife, and the detachment of himself from his son to preclude another like tragedy. How could someone have comprehended the grief he had placed on himself when his son was absorbed into that depthless shadow? The vexing mixture of pride and regret he felt when his son tore apart that tangible darkness and freed himself?  
  
iI've lost everything, everything, everything that matters to me, matters in this world../i  
  
The Deputy Commander had understood the hidden distress as the unsuccessful doctor proclaimed that the Pilot Salvage Operation had failed and was being aborted. The voiceless, motionless shock as the Operations Chief, kneeling beside the exposed entry plug, sobbed as she embraced the bodiless cobalt and ivory plug suit. But the boy had returned of his own volition, due to the vague influence of his deceased mother's touch.  
  
iI wish that I could turn back time, 'cause now the guilt is all mine../i  
  
And then, with the sudden assault of the fungus-like Bardiel that invaded the American Unit 03, the tender humaneness of the son had surfaced once more with his unwillingness to fight the manned attacker. Was it strategic benefit that had caused the demanding man to switch to that terrifying dummy system, that wielded such a horrific and perverse power — or had it been the concern that if some intervention had not been provided, the selfless son would have been sacrificed?  
  
His disturbed screams and vocal protests had gone unheeded until the dummy system finally lost power, its last action being the facile destruction of the fragile entry plug. The son had become distraught and angered at his father, who, not able to gracefully endure the pained voice of his son, had abruptly chosen to silence him.  
  
Can't live without the trust of those you love..  
  
The son had lost the small amount of faith he had held for his father priour to the event, and as a result had chosen to abandon the hypocritical purports of the facility, as well as the shattering reality named Father, who had not attempted to hinder the boy's departure. Finally, it was the altruistic gratitude of his guardian that had averted his personal exodus.  
  
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iI know, you can't forget the past../i  
  
The solitary conspicuous similarity the two shared was their perplexing attachment to Ikari Yui, whose empty grave they visited with noticeable irregularity. The vertically narrow gravestones were positioned close to each other, the earth barren as the bodies were discarded or were primarily not possible to be possessed, as the majority had been various body parts if any collected after the catastrophic Second Impact.  
  
"What did she look like? Mother." The boy was soft-spoken, having an almost effeminate tone to his voice most characterised by its obvious frailty. In response to the uncomfortable silence that ensued, the boy had added, "I thought so. You can't even remember, can you? My teacher said that these graves were empty as well."  
  
"That is correct."  
  
"He said that you threw them away," the statement spoken with blossoming conviction accompanied by nervous side glances. "I thought you loved mother."  
  
"My regards toward her need not be verbally confirmed. I am certain of my sentiments."  
  
"..Doctor Ritsuko said that I.. I was watching when she.."  
  
"Yui had wanted you to be there. She wanted you to see how bright the future would be."  
  
"She died, though."  
  
Clutch.  
  
"I don't even know what she looked like."  
  
Relax.  
  
Clutch.  
  
Relax.  
  
Clutch.  
  
Fist.  
  
Relax.  
  
"You have her eyes." 


End file.
